Song of my People

I can’t believe what a wonderfully lazy day it was yesterday. It all started as usual with a nice relaxing cuddle with Mrs Bob before the routine of making tea, coffee etc begins. This morning was somewhat different as we were awoken earlier than usual by a strange (but comforting) noise emanating from downstairs followed by a scurrying noise on the stairs, suddenly out of nowhere appeared Dog (the cat) he sprung out of the darkness and crash landed on my semi-sleeping form. Dog then proceeded to clamber all over the pair of us and purr very loudly in our faces almost sounding like an old two-stroke engine (ask your dad). This is the kind of alarm clock I could cope with extremely easily, except for the fact that there was no snooze button and we all know my thoughts on the snooze button. It was at this point that he decided to curl up and sleep in between the two of us and stopped purring almost as if he had stalled.

Eventually, when I got up as I normally do to make the mornings first hot beverage for Mrs Bob, and my first caffeine fix of the day, I had a furry friend suddenly wake up, launch himself off the bed and follow me downstairs. It was upon entering the kitchen that I realised why (obvious really) – his bowl was empty. It had been licked clean and shiny. Dog then began to sing the song of his people just to reiterate the visual clues and make sure there was no doubt as to the problem and what he thought an acceptable solution would be. Now for those of you who haven’t had the joy of a feline house guest, I shall explain. (if you have then maybe skip ahead a bit and wait for the rest to catch up). Until the the empty bowl situation is sorted, two things will happen: one – every time you move anywhere, said cat will run between your legs almost causing you to trip and/or fall. Two – the vocal protest of “my bowl is empty what shall we do about it” will become louder and more incessant until the situation is rectified. This meant that everything had to be put on hold until Dog was happily tucking into his cat chow, which is one of the smells etc that I really can’t stand at all – wet cat food is a smell that has always upset me but it’s something my mother always used to just say was me being fussy and silly and to just get on with it.

Now that Dog was fed I could start my morning routines of hot drinks, breakfast etc while I had the free time. I should point out that having a kitten-sized cat is almost like having a small human child really, your sleep is disturbed by them waking you up, they have to come first (in their opinion) and above all they can be very needy and clingy. That having been said, the benefits really do outweigh the downsides and you will have a loving, faithful creature that will wake you up and demand feeding at all times of the day or night, for life. I was now up and dressed and beginning to catch up on some work emails etc and Dog decided he wanted to sleep now – but not on a cushion or empty chair, on me bless him, and every time I picked my Ipad up to work, he would push his head around it and meow at me as if to say “hey what are you doing? I wanna help” . This meant then a short fuss break for the furry little git, then we would try again. This continued for quite a while until Mrs Bob dug out her old (large) meditation cushion and plonked Dog on the thing, and in one swift move, the issue was solved.

With Dog now firmly planted on his own large cushion, I was free to work without any hinderance (or excuses) at all. This meant I got some stuff done but not everything… (well Rome wasn’t built in a day etc. Actually it has taken 1,009,491 days to build Rome, based on the traditional founding of the city 21 April 753 BC. The rest I would have to sort upon my return from work that night.

When I left the house to walk to work the strangest thing happened. Apparently, as soon as I left the house, Dog ran to the front door and cried at it! Seems I have made a new friend. This happend later on as well – he was home when I got back and came to greet me upon walking in the door. Then he went out when we went upstairs to watch TV, ending the day with him letting himself in at half eleven at night and curling up between us and sleeping until around four in the morning. Then then he went either downstairs or to his proper home (I’m assuming he has one), only to return this morning at half seven for a visit and cuddles before following me downstairs. I’m starting to notice a new addition to my morning routine now, but I’m not too stressed about it. I might as well enjoy it while it’s there.